


Drive

by coffeebuddha



Series: 100 Themes [1]
Category: Psych
Genre: First Meetings, Hitchhiking, M/M, Pre-Series, Runaway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeebuddha/pseuds/coffeebuddha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a young Carlton Lassiter picks up an underage, runaway Shawn Spencer on the side of the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive

There's a storm coming, and it darkens the normally bright, midday California sky so much that Carlton flicks on the headlights of his old, beat up truck. Or at least that was the plan, but when he flips the switch, nothing happens. He frowns, his eyes sliding away from the road as he works the switch back and forth. Carlton would swear his eyes didn't leave the road for longer than a second, but that's all it takes for the truck to drift off of the smooth asphalt and onto the rough shoulder. Carlton pops back upright and curses loudly. There's a teenage boy on the side of the road. His face is blurred by adrenalin and speed, but Carlton can make out the red slash of his gaping mouth and the rigidness of his frame.

Carlton doesn't know how he manages to avoid the kid--probably some combination of reflexive defensive driving and the kid throwing himself out of the way at the last minute--and he's not about to question it right now. The tires squeal faintly as he swings the steering wheel around and jerks to a stop on the side of the road. He jumps out of the cab and lopes around to where the boy has fallen to sit half stunned in the grass, an overstuffed backpack on the ground beside him. He blinks up at Carlton with huge, stunned eyes and something protective and caring squeezes tightly in his chest.

"You okay there, kid?" Carlton isn't exactly certain what the proper protocol is when you've just nearly hit someone with a moving vehicle, but he's guessing that making sure they aren't injured is pretty high on the list. The boy looks more surprised than hurt, his eyes managing to go even wider when a fat raindrop lands square in the middle of his forehead. He shakes all over like a dog before lurching up onto his feet, his movements awkward and uncertain as if he isn't quite comfortable in his body yet. There's an ominous rumbling from overhead and Carlton feels a few warm raindrops plop down on him. The kid still hasn't answered and the feel of the rainwater rolling over his scalp, between strands of hair is distracting. Carlton scrubs a hand over his head and raises his eyebrows. "Well? Are you okay? Do you need a ride?"

The boy squints up at the sky, his t-shirt already dotted with moisture, and glances over at Carlton. He touches the tip of his tongue to his top lip and gives him a quick once over before nodding. "A ride would be good."

Carlton keeps an eye on the boy as he slings his backpack up onto a thin shoulder and shuffles toward the truck. He's never been good at guessing people's ages and this is no exception, although he can't possibly be out of high school yet. He isn't exactly what Carlton would think of as attractive, but there's something compelling about his expressive eyes and his mouth, now that it's closed instead of hanging stupidly open, looks soft and inviting. Carlton breathes in hard and forces himself to focus on buckling up and pulling back out onto the mostly deserted road.

It takes several minutes of driving with no sound but the rumble of the engine and the dull hum of the air conditioner before Carlton realizes that he never asked exactly where he was supposed to be giving the boy a ride _to_. When he looks over, he's leaning against the door, his forehead pressed against the foggy glass, and his fingers and feet jumping like it's taking everything in him to keep from springing up and flailing wildly around. Too much extra energy, Carlton decides as he focuses back on the road. Nothing he won't grow out of. Carlton clears his throat and out of the corner of his eye he can see the boy's head turn to look at him.

"Where am I taking you to..." he starts, trailing off when he remembers that he never bothered to actually ask the kid's name either. He inwardly rolls his eyes and congratulates himself on a job well done.

The boy huffs a laugh and says, "Shawn. I'm Shawn. And I really don't care. Where ever you're going is fine."

Carlton rolls his eyes for real this time. "Right, kid. If you want to do something stupid, then I can't stop you, but I'm not going to help." He glances over at Shawn's slumped form again, taking in his too big clothes, too skinny limbs, and too shaggy hair. He looks impossibly young. The last thing Carlton needs is some minor making trouble for him. "Exactly how old are you, anyway?"

Shawn's eyes are narrowed to intense slivers and the look he levels at Carlton is unsettling. Almost as if he's memorizing everything about him. Carlton swallows, suddenly a little uneasy, as Shawn's lips curve in a slow, lazy smile and his ever changing eyes darken. "I'm old enough."

Carlton's hand slips and the truck pitches to the right before he jerks it straight again. Shawn's smile widens and he stretches, his arm settling across the back of the bench seat so that his fingers just barely brushed Carlton's shoulder. The unexpected touch practically burns through the thin cotton of his shirt and Carlton sucks a breath in too quickly and chokes on his own saliva. He pulls the truck off onto the shoulder and bends over the steering wheel, hacking hard enough that his eyes sting. Shawn takes the opportunity to slide closer until they are hip to hip and smacks him enthusiastically on the back.

When his breathing is finally under control he straightens, not really surprised when the warmth of Shawn's hand doesn't disappear, but just slides from between his shoulder blades to the small of his back. However, he _is_ surprised when Shawn's other hand slips up under the bottom of his t-shirt, the boy's blunt nails scraping over the skin above his waistband in a way that makes his pulse jump.

"Dude, get me the hell away from Santa Barbara and I'll be anything you want me to be."

Fuck, Carlton thinks dazedly as he looks down at the kid, who's moving even closer, his eyes half lidded and his face tilted invitingly upward. Wait. Kid. _Fuck._ The heat that had been flooding through him freezes and he scowls at Shawn.

"Get. Your damned hands. Off. Of me." He bites out between clenched teeth. Shawn's eyes widen and Carlton thinks he might have actually gone a little pale under his tan, but he can't be sure. "What kind of game do you think you're playing at here?"

"No game," he says, but his brash, confident voice has a shade of uncertainty to it and he hurriedly scoots back away from Carlton. "Look, haven't you ever gotten into your truck and wanted to just drive and drive until you reached the end of the world where no one can find you? Are you really content just sitting still, because I'm not. I want to be out there doing something. _Anything_. It's hell back there, man. I can't take it anymore."

Carlton has to look away, because if he keeps staring into those damn, hypnotizing eyes, he's going to end up doing something a lot stupider than just almost letting Shawn kiss him. "I'm sorry, Shawn, but I can't help you. It wouldn't be right."

Shawn scowls at him with every bit of intensity that he'd been putting into seducing him just moments earlier. "Okay then," he says tightly as he reaches down to grab one of his bag's straps. He struggles with it for a few seconds as he pulls it up off the floorboard and onto his lap, then the door's open and he's slipping out of it. "Thanks for the lift. I'll make my own way from here."  
  
Carlton sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair. "Shawn, get back in the truck and let me drive you home."

"Bye," Shawn says brightly as he slams the door closed. Carlton leans over and cranks the window down, resisting the urge to jump out after him and strangle his scrawny neck.

"You're not being smart about this. Hitchhiking is dangerous. You're going to get hurt." Carlton grits his teeth when Shawn flashes a shit eating grin and gives him a jaunty little wave.

"Maybe," he calls over his shoulder as he starts trekking back down the road. "But at least it'll be something new!"  
  
The right thing to do would be to run after him and force him to go back home, except...Except something in Carlton's gut insists that if Shawn doesn't want to do something, there's absolutely nothing he can do to force him. Carlton stays where he is for a long time, watching Shawn grow smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror. It isn't until Shawn rounds a corner and disappears from view entirely that Carlton finally throws the truck back into drive and heads back toward Santa Barbara, his stomach roiling with guilt the entire way.


End file.
